


Unexpected

by aban_ataashi



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: F/M, Gen, adoption fic, family fic, started this as a one shot prompt and it got longer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-16 21:05:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13062141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aban_ataashi/pseuds/aban_ataashi
Summary: It’s difficult for Wardens to have children, and Allys Mahariel has resigned herself to that fact.Somehow, she ends up with five.The story of a Dalish Warden, an Antivan assassin, and the children they find themselves adopting.





	1. Harrin

**Author's Note:**

> I've always had a vague headcanon that although my Allys Mahariel never has kids, she does adopt every family-less kid she comes across (and Thedas probably has plenty). A writing prompt with the theme 'family' got me writing this to flesh the idea out a little, and what was intended as one-shot turned into this. The story takes place in a vague post-Awakening time when everyone is happy and nobody is missing/dead/etc
> 
> Enjoy!

It’s difficult for Wardens to have children. Not _impossible,_ mind you. Just rare. But it does happen.

Although Allys doesn’t personally know of any examples. What Alistair and Morrigan did doesn’t count. That involved magic and the soul of an archdemon, and the world probably doesn’t need more than one old-god-baby running around. And Oghren had his kid _before_ he joined the Wardens, before the darkspawn blood did whatever it does to a person’s body that makes parenthood so unlikely.

It’s probably a blessing, really. The life of a Warden isn’t exactly conducive to raising children. The life of Allys Mahariel, even less so. She and Zevran have enough chaos in their lives without throwing a kid into the mix. So whenever the topic comes up, she shrugs it off, and Zevran doesn’t press. He seems to understand, to know that acknowledging any feelings of disappointment will only deepen the cut. He lets her ramble on about how their lives are too dangerous anyway, they travel too much, they fight too much, it’s probably for the best.

It’s difficult for Wardens to have children, and Allys Mahariel has resigned herself to that fact.

Somehow, she ends up with five.

 

It’s six months after the attack on Amaranthine, and scattered reports of darkspawn attacks are still reaching the Wardens. Allys has been on the move with Anders, Nathaniel, and Velanna, tracking down one of the last Hurlock groups when they come across the Dalish camp.

Or rather, what is left of the Dalish camp.

Allys lets out a shaky breath as she walks through the remains of the camp. Bodies- some armed, some not- lay lifeless throughout the area. “It must have been a small clan,” she murmurs. “The darkspawn would have taken them by surprise.”

Velanna is quiet, but Allys knows this is bringing back unwelcome memeories. She can practically feel the mage’s simmering rage. _I don’t blame her,_ Allys thinks, circling the long-dead fire pit. Her grip on her bow tightens. _We should have gotten here sooner._

“Sweep out,” she says, running a weary hand through her curls. “Search for any clues as to where the darkspawn went. And stay alert.” The Wardens silently obey, spreading out across the grim scene without their usual banter. Allys doesn’t get far before a soft rustling sound causes her to turn and raise her weapon.

The noise comes from a half-collapsed tent, and as Allys approaches she notices something moving inside. She edges forward, bow at the ready, and in one swift motion kicks aside the single pole still holding the tent aloft. The creature inside moves more frantically before finally breaking free of the canvas, and Allys finds herself face-to-face with a small elvhen child.

The child scrambles backward, tripping in his panic, and Allys quickly drops her bow. “It’s okay, it’s okay!” she says quickly, kneeling down in front of the boy. He’s young, only about four or so, with long dark hair and large eyes that are still wide with fright.

“I’m here to help,” Allys assures him, reaching out her hand and offering him a small smile. “I’m not going to hurt you, _da’len.”_

The boy calms somewhat at the sound of the elvhen language, and his eyes linger on Allys’s _vallaslin._ Before she can say anything more, however, a shout interrupts her.

“Mahariel!”

Anders runs up, staff at the ready, and the boy is once again startled. He darts toward Allys, hiding behind her legs as Anders approaches. “We heard you- is that a kid?”

“A survivor,” Allys says, motioning for Anders to stand back. “It’s okay, _da’len._ This is a friend.”

The boy peers at Anders, untrusting, and clings tighter to Allys. By now they’ve also attracted the attention of Nathaniel and Velanna. The child watches them all with uncertainty, and Allys realizes what an odd they must make to him- two humans, two Dalish, all outfitted in silver and blue. Velanna takes on look at the cowering boy and glares accusingly at Anders. “You scared him half to death!”

“Me? I’m not scary,” Anders says petulantly, and Velanna sighs.

“The boy has probably never even seen a human before.” She pauses, looking around. “Is there… anyone else?”

Allys glances down at the child, but he gives no answer. “I don’t think so,” she says softly. The four Wardens stand in awkward silence, and Allys senses they’re all thinking the same question. _What now?_

“Velanna and I will take him back to Vigil’s Keep,” Allys finally says, leaning down to scoop the boy into her arms. He tenses, but makes no efforts to get away. “Nathaniel, Anders, will you be okay tracking down these darkspawn?”

“Of course!” Anders replies, throwing an arm around the archer, who grumpily shrugs him off.

“We’ll be fine,” Nathaniel says. “You could take to him to Amaranthine. There’s a orphanage there-”

“We can’t give the boy to a Chantry orphanage!” Velanna sharply interrupts.

“We’ll figure it out,” Allys says firmly. She nods at Velanna. “Let’s get moving before the sun sets.”

As they journey back to Vigil’s Keep, Allys and Velanna make a few more attempts to speak to the child. He listens, nods, and slowly becomes less anxious as they talk, but still says nothing. Eventually they fall into silence, and the boy, obviously exhausted, gives in to sleep.

Allys ponders on the child sleeping in her arms. Velanna’s right- the Chantry is not kind to elves, let alone elves who have only ever known life among the Dalish. When she thinks of what the boy has gone through already, what he may have seen, she simply can’t stomach the idea of dropping him off alone at some human orphanage or city alienage. The best thing to do would be to find another Dalish clan to take the boy in, but that’s easier said than done. Allys hasn’t even seen her own clan in over a year. Who knows how long it will take to track down another?

And so Allys takes the boy to Vigil’s Keep, ignoring the odd looks from the guards as she walks through the doors with the silent, sleeping elven boy. There are plenty of empty bedrooms in the old castle, and she manages to find one that’s relatively non-dusty. He awakens as she sets him on the bed, looking around in a panic before his eyes set on Allys and he relaxes again.

“You’re safe here, _da’len_ ,” she assures him. “But it would be easier if I knew your name.”

“…Harrin,” the boy says softly. He says nothing more, but when Allys moves to leave the room he lets out a small whimper. So Allys stays, and sits beside him until he falls asleep.

 

Over the next few weeks, Harrin slowly lets go of his fear, although he remains quiet. Allys sends out scouts to search for Dalish clans, but it seems the Blight has driven them away for the time being. The news makes Allys guiltily grateful. The longer Harrin remains in the Keep, the more attached she becomes. He follows quietly at her heels as she supervises repairs, plays in the halls with her mabari and Anders’s cat, and refuses to fall asleep at night unless Allys is the one to put him to bed.

All too late, Allys realizes she already thinks of him as her child. She probably shouldn’t- Warden’s don’t typically have families, and there are reasons. Danger and duty and all that. But Allys finds that she doesn’t quite care.

Her mind is made up on the day Zevran finally returns from Antiva. She has been waiting for this day for too long, and when he struts into the main hall with that cheesy grin, she runs to him and holds him tight.

He laughs and hugs her back fiercely. “I was gone far too long, it seems.”

“There was a noticeable lack of assassination attempts these past months.”

“That sounds very dull, indeed,” Zevran says, pulling her into a deep kiss. After they break away, Zevran casts a sweeping glance at the Keep around him and says, “So what have I missed?”

The two elves share stories of battles and assassinations and darkspawn, and eventually, of orphaned Dalish children found in the forest. Part of Allys is hoping Zevran will have an idea of where to send Harrin, and part of her is dreading it. Perhaps he can read her thoughts- he always was good at that- because when she finishes he says“I don’t see why he cannot stay here.”

The response makes her smile, although she tries to fight it off. “Zev, it’s a bad idea.”

He grins. “You should know by now that I love bad ideas.”

“I _just_ told you about how the Keep was the target of a darkspawn attack. What if…” Allys can’t bring herself to finish the thought. This fear, this shred of reason, is why she’s been fighting so hard against her growing affection for the child. _What if we can’t keep him safe?_

Zevran takes her hand. “You also told me how the City of Amaranthine was attacked. And a Dalish clan was attacked. We don’t know what will happen, but I can’t imagine any place safer than with you.”

 

That night, when Allys goes to put Harrin to sleep, Zevran is already in the room. He sits beside Harrin;s bed, in the middle of a fantastical story about dragons, griffons, and a beautiful Dalish archer. Allys chuckles quietly to herself and leans against the door, watching the pair- Zevran, theatric as he waves his hands in motion with the tale, and Harrin, his awestruck audience. In the middle of the story Zevran looks up and sees Allys in the doorway, and when he smiles she smiles back.

_We can do this,_ she thinks. She can’t say she’s no longer afraid. But between her and Zevran, she thinks they can make this work.


	2. Moira

Over the next year, Vigil’s Keep is slowly restored to its full potential. It becomes known as a Warden stronghold, although said Wardens are often called away to aid in other matters. Most of these matters involve forays into the Deep Roads or long treks to Weissenhaupt, but occasionally the Wardens partake in business that is not technically Warden-related. On this occasion, the Queen has sent word of a group of villages in the Frostback Mountains that have been experiencing a surge in attacks from the Carta.

Clearing out the Carta won’t require a full armada. Allys and Zevran set out on their own, leaving Harrin and the Keep in the guard of the other Wardens. _A romantic vacation,_ Zevran calls it, and Allys smiles and rolls her eyes.

The Carta group is larger than they expected, but is still no match for the two elves. They ambush the gang’s headquarters, a large workshop of some sort built into the cliffside. They burst inside in a flurry of daggers and arrows, and quickly take care the leaders. Their followers take the hint and quickly scatter. Zevran watches as they flee down the halls.

“Shall we go after them?”

Allys considers this, but shakes her head. “Let them go. They won’t be coming back anytime soon. Although I would like to know what brought them here.”

The answer is found down one of the many hallways leading out of the base and tunneling into the mountain- lyrium. Apparently, an untapped reserve lies below the nearby village, and once it was discovered the Carta had been quick to claim it. Allys and Zevran eventually end up in a room far below the surface, containing several half-filled containers of lyrium.

“We should head back,” Allys says, wrinkling her nose at the burnt-copper smell that fills the room. “This stuff is raw.”

“There may be something here worth taking,” Zevran says, beginning to shift through a stack of crates in the corner of the room.

“If you open a barrel of raw lyrium you’re going to- _are those fire arrows?”_

Zevran smiles and waves an arrow tauntingly at Allys. “See? You never know-“

His next words are cut off with an _oomf_ as a small blur darts from behind the stack of crates and barrels, knocking Zevran to the floor. He rolls with the blow and leaps back up, reaching for a dagger, as Allys raises her bow at-

A dwarf girl. Not a warrior, but a girl who can’t be more than ten. Her face is covered in dust, her ruddy hair is tangled and wild, and in her right hand she grips a shortsword. Zevran and Allys are startled by the sight, and she takes of advantage of the moment to charge at Zevran, sword raised.

Despite her ferocity, she _is_ only a child. Zevran moves to the side and easily grabs the sword from her hand.

“ _Hey!”_ she says, reaching for it, but Zevran holds it above it head. He gives Allys a quizzical look as the dwarf girl, whose head barely reaches his waist, jumps furiously for the weapon.

“What in the world are you doing here?,” Allys asks, reaching for the girl. Before Allys can touch her, the girl whirls around and takes a step back, hands raised defensively.

“What are _you_ doing here? Give me my sword back, unless you’re scared to face me in a _real_ fight!”

“We’re not going to fight you,” Allys says, trying and not completely succeeding to hold back a chuckle. She’s never been so eagerly challenged by someone so small.  “Who are you?”

The girl stares at Allys suspiciously, but when it becomes clear she won’t be attacked she seems to drop her guard. “Name’s Moira. And I was working til you two came in and killed everyone.”

That certainly wasn’t what Allys was expecting. Guessing a dwarf’s age can be tricky, but there is no doubt that the child before her is in fact a child. She looks at Zevran as if he might offer an explanation, but he only shrugs. “It wouldn’t be unheard of for an organization like the Carta to make children fight…”

“Not fighting,” Moira interjects. “Mostly I worked with lyrium. They needed someone small to send into the tunnels. That’s what I did. And they didn’t _make_ me do nothing. They paid me.”

_Yes, that makes it so much better,_ Allys thinks bitterly. She exchanges a look with Zevran, and can see they’re thinking the same thing.

Their silent reaction turns Moira defensive “It’s better than being out on my own.” Her face goes dark. “Which I guess I am _now,_ since you killed my boss. _”_

“Moira,” Zevran begins, but as he moves towards Moira she lashes out, kicking him hard in the knee. Startled, Zevran lets out a yelp and drops the sword. Moira grabs it and makes a dash for the exit, only to be grabbed by Allys. The sword sweeps through the air, nearly whacking Allys in the head, before Moira is disarmed once again.

“ _Let me go!”_ she yells.

“Just listen!” Allys says. “We promise we’re not going to hurt you. We’re just going to make an offer, okay?”Moira stops fighting and Allys releases her- making sure to kick the sword out of arm’s reach first. “You shouldn’t be out on your own We have a pretty big home, and you’re welcome to come back with us.”

Moira looks skeptical. “You want me to work for you? Doing what?”

“Not working,” Zevran says, rubbing his leg. “Just… staying.”

“Like in jail?”

“Of course not! Creators, you’re a kid, we’re not putting you in jail.” Allys watches surprise cross Moira’s face, and a surge of protectiveness rises inside her. “And we’re not going to hurt you, and we’re not going to make you work for us. You can come live at Vigil’s Keep and we’ll take care of you. If you want to.”

Moira’s eyes dart between Allys and Zevran, looking at them as if they’re either liars or crazy.

“And if you do decide to come,” Zevran adds, “I’ll teach you how to hold a dagger so that nobody will be able to take it from you.”

Moira considers this. “Okay. Deal.”

 

Allys watches the girl nervously as they travel back through the mountains, worrying that she’ll change her mind and try to run off again. But Moira stays, looking a little more at ease each day. At one point, she even apologizes for attacking them.

“I wasn’t _really_ going to kill you,” she tells them, and Allys laughs.

“Don’t you worry. A lot of people attack me when they first see me. Even Zev here tried to kill me.”

“An unusual approach, I admit, but it makes a good first impression,” Zevran says with a grin as Allys leans over to kiss him on the cheek. Moira still looks at them as if they’re both crazy, but she does it with a smile.

 

They are spotted approaching Vigil’s Keep by Harrin, who’s keeping watch for them on the battlements. He greets them at the gates, riding on Alistair’s shoulders.

“It’s about time!” Alistair shouts. “Not that we couldn’t hold down the fort ourselves, of course.”

“I’m just happy the Keep is still standing,” Allys says with a smirk. “I assume that means Harrin was able to keep you in line?”

Alistair laughs as Harrin clambers down from his shoulders to hug Allys and Zevran. Moira, meanwhile, lags behind, staring up at the Keep with awe. “You live _there?”_

Alistair glances at the girl. “And, uh, who is this?”

Introductions are made, and as the group makes their way to the main hall, Alistair shoots a grin at Allys. “So now I have a niece _and_ a nephew, huh?”

“If she decides to stay,” Allys says. “And I think she will.” They watch as Harrin and Moira walk through the courtyard. Harrin watches the dwarf girl with a touch of wariness. She doesn’t seem to notice, however, and fills his silence with unending questions as she points to various parts of the Keep. He nods or shakes his head in response, a smile slowly forming on his face in response to her excitement.

“I hope so,” Zevran says. “She shouldn’t have to grow up fighting for her life.” He doesn’t say anything more, but his voice is soft and thoughtful. Allys threads her fingers through his.

“She won’t have to.”


	3. Rae

“Keep your back straight… pull… and…”

The arrow flies forward, too high, sailing over the target.

“Shit!”

“ _Language,”_ Allys chides, and Moira rolls her eyes.

“Oghren gets to swear,” she says grumpily. Harrin giggles from his spot in the corner where he watches, Ser Pounce-A-Lot curled happily in his lap. His grin fades when Allys shoots him a warning look, shifting quickly into a well-practiced look of innocence.

“You don’t need to be picking up any habits from Oghren,” Allys tells Moira as she hands her another arrow. Over the past few months, Moira has been working her way through every type of weapon she can get her hands on. Zevran, true to his word, had taught her a few tricks with swords and daggers. Then, she began pestering Oghren for lessons with his warhammer. After _that,_ she went to Anders to learn how to throw lightning. When he told her she couldn’t, she took it as a personal insult and wouldn’t speak to him or Velanna for a week.

A part of Allys wonders if she should be worried about this penchant for weaponry. Mostly she’s simply offended it took this long for Moira to get to archery.

Allys is evaluating Moira’s stance when Nathaniel approaches. “Commander-”

Moira, startled, looses the arrow, which flies and hits the outer ring of the target. “I did it!” she shouts, thrusting her bow victoriously into the air. Allys laughs and ruffles her hair, while Harrin claps enthusiastically.

“You’re improving,” Nathaniel says with thinly veiled amusement.

“Of course she is,” Alls replies. “She has an amazing teacher, you know.”

He rolls his eyes at that. “Well, the amazing teacher is needed at the gate. There’s somebody asking for you.”

“Somebody?” Allys arches an eyebrow. Unanounced visitors are rare these days. In recent months Zevran has tapped into a network of informants that are quite effective at alerting them to any impending visits, whether they be from nobility or vagrant Wardens. They aren’t expecting either at the moment. Allys leaves Moira and her bow in Nathaniel’s care and heads to the gates to investigate.

Zevran materializes behind her as she walks. “I hear we have a visitor?”

“Of course you did. We’re not expecting any trouble, are we?”

“No, but it is best to be prepared.”

Allys nods. “They asked for the Wardens, apparently. Keep an eye out, just in case.” Zevran winks and disappears, presumably off to find a vantage point.

It turns out that the unexpected visitor is even more unexpected than expected. Waiting outside the gates is a tall girl in a plain, mud-caked dress. From the state of her clothes and the weariness with which she stands, she’s obviously been traveling. When she sees Allys approach in her silver-blue uniform, however, she straightens. “Are you the one in charge of the Wardens?”

“I am,” Allys replies. The girl looks a little surprised- Allys wonders how many of the tales about the Hero of Fereldan conveniently leave out the Dalish part- but quickly recovers and thrusts out her hand.

“My name is Rae,” she says, “and I’m here to join the Wardens.”

Now it’s Allys’s turn to be taken aback. She stares back for a moment before asking the obvious question. “Rae? How old are you?”

Rae clenches her fists into the sides of her dress. “Seventeen.”

Allys snorts. Rae is tall and broad-shouldered, even by human standards, but she is still more child than adult. “Try again.”

She blushes scarlet. “Thirteen.”

“ _Thirteen?”_ This, at least, is believable- and far too young to be joining the Grey Wardens.

 Rae cast a panicked look behind her, her frantic eyes snapping between the road and the Keep. “There has to be some sort of job I can do! I heard the Grey Wardens are supposed to take _anybody.”_

Allys’s first reaction is, of course, to tell the kid in no uncertain terms that she has at least five years before she should even consider Joining. But the desperation on her face gives her pause. “Why do you want to be a Warden so badly?”

Rae falls silent, casting her eyes down. Allys sighs. She doesn’t know what it is this girl wants, but she can’t just turn her away. “Come on in.”

Rae tries to speak more as they enter the hall, but Allys sends her to the kitchen with a promise that they’ll discuss matters after she has a chance to eat and rest. Once she’s gone, Zevran reappears.

“She’s offering to be recruited?”

“It’s not happening,” Allys says flatly. “She’s a _kid._ It’s bad enough when a proper recruit doesn’t make it. And even if she made it through the Joining, the life of a Warden…”

“I will not argue with that,” Zevran says, “but I wonder why she is so determined.”

“I’m not sure I want to know,” Allys mutters, but she enters the kitchens anyway. Rae sits in the corner, hungrily attacking a plate of food provided by the workers. She looks up as Allys and Zevran enter.

“So what do I need to do?” she asks immediately. “Is there a test or something? I can do it now, I can-”

“Let me make this clear,” Allys interrupts, “You’re not joining the Wardens anytime soon.” Rae’s face falls. 

“If you’re in need of aid of some sort,” Zevran adds, “We are pretty good at handling trouble.”

Rae stares sullenly into her plate of food. She seems about to speak when the doors to the kitchen are thrust open, and suddenly a man in armor barges into the room.

“Ser!” Seneschal Varel comes running in at his heels, shooting a panicked glance at Allys. “My apologies, Commander, I told him to wait-”

“I am here by order of the Chantry,” the man interrupts. Rae gives a panicked squeak. Before Allys can stop her, she leaps from her seat and darts towards the door. She very nearly makes it, but the man grabs hold of her arm.

“Let go of me!” she cries, but the man’s grip only tightens.

“You’ve been too much of a headache already,” he growls. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll come quietly-”

His voice stops as an arrow whisks past his face, missing his nose by a hair and burying itself into the wooden doorframe.

“If _you_ know what’s good for you,” Allys says steadily, bow held aloft with another arrow already notched, “you’ll let her go."

The man scowls but releases his hold on Rae. Zevran swiftly repositions himself to stand between them. The armored man glares darkly, and for the first time Allys notices the Templar sigil on his armor. Things begin to slide into place.

“That,” the man says, pointing at Rae, “is an apostate. She’s been evading the Circle for weeks. It is my duty to take her back where she belongs.”

Rae is white as sheet, but she chokes out, “I’m not letting you lock me up!”

The Templar makes a move towards her, attempting to push past Zevran. Perhaps he thinks his size will intimidate the elf, but before he takes a step a knife appears against his throat. “My friend,” Zevran says in a conversational tone, “Trust me when I say this is a very bad idea.”

“By the Divine Order of the Chantry, I am taking this mage-”

“You’re not taking her anywhere. She’s a Warden.”

All attention is suddenly on Allys. She shrugs. “Sorry, _Ser Templar,_ but it’s too late. Rite of Conscription, and all that. Nothing we can do about it.”

The Templar looks as if he wants to argue, but seems to find it difficult with Zevran’s dagger still at his throat. In the end, all he says is, “You’ll wish you had done differently when she becomes an abomination.”

Allys almost laughs. _You think that scares me? I’m friends with a spirit that likes to walk around in other people’s dead bodies._ As tempting as it would be to introduce this man to Justice, Allys wants him out of the Keep as quickly as possible that.

“I’ll remember that. Now, I’m sure you know the way out?”

The Templar casts one last angry glance at Rae, who raises her chin defiantly at him. He mumbles something to himself and turns to leave. Varel, who had been watching the proceedings in nervous silence, follows him out. Once they’re gone, Rae looks at Allys with wary hopefulness.

“So… I’m a Warden?”

“Absolutely not,” Allys says firmly, to the girl’s dismay. “But that should keep the Templar’s off your back.”

“But what am I supposed to do?!?” Rae demands. She starts wringing her hands together, casting a pleading look at Allys as she talks. “I can’t go home! My whole village knows I’m magic! They _saw_ me shoot lightning, and they told my parents, and my parents locked me in a barn and called the Templars!” Her voice gets higher and more frantic as she talks, and Allys can tell the girl is close to tears.

“We won’t let the Templars take you,” Allys assures her. “Our mages can teach you, and you’ll be safe here. But you are _not_ becoming a Warden.”

“…Really?” Rae looks between Allys and Zevran in disbelief.

“I’d almost say that was an abuse of power,” Zevran teases, and Allys laughs.

“I think at this point, the Chantry knows I don’t give a shit.”

“Language!” Moira shouts as she bursts in, Harrin in tow.

“Very funny,” Allys says dryly.

Moira grins. “Varel was outside. He said you found ‘another one’. What does that mean?”

Zevran chuckles and gestures to Rae. “Allow me to make the introductions.”


	4. Nikko

Zevran waits in an alley at the Antivan docks, watching patiently as the sky slowly gets darker. It’s chilly today, which works in his favor as it discourages idle bystanders. As if to accentuate his thoughts, a gust of cold wind tears through the alley and rattles the boards on the window of a nearby shop. It doesn’t bother Zevran- a cold day in Antiva doesn’t compare to even a mild day in Ferelden.

It’s strange that Zevran should feel nostalgia for the cold, mud-covered country, but he does. Funny, in way. When he first entered Ferelden, Zevran didn’t think the place had much of value. Then he met his Warden, and she changed everything.

Allys had wanted to accompany him here, but they both knew she couldn’t leave Vigil’s Keep unattended for so long. Zevran often said the Wardens would fall apart without her, and she would roll her eyes but never disagreed.

As regretful as it was to be away from her for so long, Zevran had little choice. He’d received word on the whereabouts of some high ranking members of the Crows. The opportunity to ambush them had been too valuable to pass up. His former comrades still harbored a grudge against him for leaving, and Zevran knew better than anyone the value of striking first.

They put up a good fight- Antivan Crows always do- but Zevran had won out in the end. He was prepared, after all. Now he only has one last matter of business to attend to. The Crows had been here on a lucrative job. The city had already been cleared of quite a few people before Zevran arrived- merchants, guard captains, lawmakers. Zevran is curious to see who it is that could afford such a purge, and why it was necessary.

At last, the ship arrives. Zevran moves silently towards it, taking note of the people coming and going. Just sailors, it seems- nobody that would pose much of a threat. As he gets closer, however, he hears angry voices.

“The harbormaster is supposed to be _gone! Kaffas,_ I’ll have the heads of those useless Crows! We need to leave now!”

“No, we need to resupply. Unless you want to risk starvation in the middle of the ocean!”

“You want to talk about risk? Do you know what they do to slavers here?”

 _Interesting,_ Zevran thinks, and he unsheathes his dagger.

 

“And _then,_ he threw the guy with the beard into the ocean!” The elvhen boy throws his arms up as he says this, giving his audience a wide, gap-toothed grin. His voice is high and excited. From what Zevran has come to learn _excited_ is the boy’s natural state.

“Yes, I was getting to that part,” Zevran says. “But first there was some sneaking, and lock-picking-”

“But the part where you threw him in the ocean was the best part,” the child insists. Nikko was on the ship during Zevran’s one-man invasion, along with over a dozen other prisoners. Zevran had helped to see the rest of them off, hopefully to return to the home from which they were taken. In the end only Nikko remained. He looked to be around eight years old, although he had no way of knowing for sure. He claimed to have been moved around quite a bit- three times that he could remember- and had long lost track of his parents. All this and more Zevran had been told as the boy talked nonstop on the road back to Ferelden.

Allys hadn’t even looked surprised when Zevran returned with the new addition to Vigil’s Keep.

“I’m sure your version of the story has much less embellishment,” Allys tells Nikko. Their mismatched family is gathered at a table in the kitchens, where they and a few Wardens eat and listen to Zevran’s tale.

“That means _lies,”_ Moira stage whispers. Zevran puts on an offended front.

“Lie? My lovely dear, I would _never.”_

“Even if you _aren’t_ lying,” Rae says, “You can’t beat what the Wardens did while you were gone.”

“I singlehandedly defeated a ship full of soliders,” Zevran protests, casting an inquisitive look at Allys. She simply smiles.

“We fought a dragon.”

“A dragon?” Nikko exclaims, his attention suddenly shifting to Allys. “A real one? Did it fly? Did it spit fire? I heard once they’re bigger than houses, is that true? How do you fight something that big?” He’s practically clambering over the table now in excitement.

Zevran raises an eyebrow. “Don’t you won’t to finish our story?”

Nikko is unconcerned. “I know what happened, I was _there._ I wanna hear about the dragon!”

Allys smirks, and Zevran holds up his hands in defeat. “I know when I have been bested.”

“Okay kids,” Allys begins, “the most important thing to remember when fighting a dragon…”

Nikko listens with awe, which doesn’t stop him from interrupting every other sentence with more and more questions. Allys fields them all patiently until Moira and Rae beg her to just continue the story. This goes on for a while- Allys talking, Nikko interrupting, Moira and Rae arguing over him. Even Harrin manages to contribute to the noise by banging his wooden spoon on the table. Zevran smiles at the scene before him and thinks, _It’s good to be home._


	5. Ashalle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note- Bioware's canon "human+elf=human baby" thing is kind of nonsensical and, in my opinion, boring. So I'm twisting canon a bit and saying that elf traits are recessive but present in half-elves. Now on with the story!

Allys hates sickness. She supposes everyone does, of course, just as everyone hates darkspawn and bandits and dragons. But in her mind sickness is so much worse. She can’t fight off sickness, not with her bow and arrows. When a sudden fever sweeps through Amaranthine, she can only hope for the best.

She sends the Warden mages to the city to assist the local healers, and spends much of her time scouring the woods for elfroot and other useful herbs. She delivers it herself, along with any other supplies the Wardens can spare. It’s part of her duty, taking care of people like this however she can. She just wishes she could do something _more._

When Allys makes her delivery at the city clinic, she typically finds the group healers and Chantry volunteers frantic and overworked. Today is no different- people bustle to and fro, nearly knocking into Allys as she makes her way to the storage room. Before she can make it, however, she’s grabbed by a harried-looking woman.

“Is that elfroot you have? Excellent, come here, we need this right away.”

Before, she can say a word, Allys finds herself being dragged into one of the rooms. She opens her mouth to ask a question, and closes it when she notices the room’s occupants. A sickly woman lies motionless on a bed before here, and next the bed sits a crib holding a small infant. The healer bustles about the room, adding the elfroot to a mixture cooking in the small fireplace. She hurries back to the woman, casting a pleading look at Allys. “Help me feed her, will you?”

Allys complies, and the woman’s eyelids flutter open. The healer breathes a sigh of relief. “That’s it, Elaina. I told you this would help.”

She hands Allys the bowl and says, “I need to take this potion to other patients. Will you help her finish?”

“Of course.” Allys feeds the Elaina a few more spoonfuls, the woman becoming more aware with each one. The room is quiet, save for the soft coos coming from the sleeping infant. Allys peers into the crib- it’s a girl, with hair already long and skin dark like her mother’s. Despite the atmosphere, the girl seems healthy. Allys can’t help but to smile at the sight. “Your daughter is lovely.”

“Thank you,” Elaina says softly, with a distant smile.

“What’s her name?”

“She…doesn’t have one yet.” The woman’s eyes slide over to the child, thoughtful. “I wanted to give her an elvhen name, but I’m afraid I don’t know many.”

Allys is surprised, until she takes a closer look at the girl. She hadn’t noticed at first, but her ears are ever so slightly pointed, and her features have a certain sharpness that could not have been inherited from her human mother.

“My parents don’t approve, of course,” Elaina murmurs.

“And her father?”

“Gone,” Elaina answers simply. She doesn’t sound angry, or even sad- only disappointed. Resigned.

“It’s their loss,” Allys says firmly. “She’s wonderful.”

“Thank you.” The woman is quiet for a moment, then says, “And thank you for the potion as well. It helped. But I know I don’t have much time left.”

“Don’t say that!” Allys says, but the woman shakes her head.

“I don’t mean to say I’ve given up all hope. But I know what my odds are at this point. I’m just glad my time hasn’t come quite yet.”

Before Allys can respond, the half-elf baby wakes with a start. Elaina rises quickly, taking the child into her arms and soothing her with whispers. Eventually, the baby quiets, and Elaina gently lays her back into the crib before falling back into her bed. Even this small effort seems to have left her exhausted.

“You rest,” Allys says, and then, because she can never simply leave a person alone, she adds, “I’ll come back to see you both tomorrow.”

 

Allys keeps visting, watching Elaina’s health fall bit by bit as days go by. Sometimes she overhears the healers speak. Sometimes, she hears them gossip.

“She’s fighting, but not improving. It’s a shame.”

“Let’s be thankful the child hasn’t fallen ill.”

“It’s a shame- her parents threw her out because of that child, you know. It’s no wonder she got sick, living on the street like that.”

Elaina never seems to hear. If she does, she gives no indication. She speaks of other things with Allys, asking about elvhen names and traditions. Their conversations don’t last long. They’re typically interrupted by coughing fits that leave Elaina exhausted, after which Allys leaves so that she may rest.

 

“What was your mother’s name?” Elaina asks eventually. She’s paler than ever, and a part of Allys knows that this will be their last conversation. Her hand is draped over her daughter’s crib, slowly smoothing the baby’s hair. Allys watches her, and thinks about the question. She thinks about a woman who had a child and then walked into the woods, never to be seen again. She thinks about another woman, one who made a choice and a promise.

“Ashalle.”

“Ashalle,” Elaina repeats. “That’s lovely.”

 

Elaina’s funeral is small and quiet. Allys stands respectfully to the side as the Mother speaks. She doesn’t completely understand these Chantry traditions, but it doesn’t matter. Her focus is mostly occupied by the infant in her arms. Allys can’t remember the last time she held such a small child. She closes her eyes and thinks, _You can rest easy, Elaina. She will be safe._ She thinks of Vigil’s Keep, where Zevran and her unexpected children are waiting for her.

Then she smiles down at the child in her arms and says, “Come on, Ashalle. Let’s go home.”


End file.
